


Origin of A Shirt

by desperationandgin



Series: Market Price (The Companion Pieces) [1]
Category: Outlander (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 02:36:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17931212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desperationandgin/pseuds/desperationandgin
Summary: A companion piece toMarket Price; what is the story behind Claire's Lallybroch Farm shirt?





	Origin of A Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> This goes directly hand in hand with _Market Price_ and I would recommend reading, at the very least, Chapters 1 & 2 for a point of reference. It's not wholly necessary! Takes place somewhere post-epilogue of _Market Price_ , after they've moved in together.

As Claire sits in the living room of Jamie’s childhood home, his sister on one side and the man himself on the other, Jenny truly gets a good look at the design on Claire’s shirt and realizes what it is with surprise. The old Lallybroch Farm shirt, the same one Claire was wearing the day she met Jamie.

“I have no’ seen that shirt in an _age_ ,” she declares. “I remember when they were mass printed. We had boxes of shirts all over hill and dale.”

Jamie looks at Claire as if her shirt might have changed and then looks at Jenny in confusion. “We’ve never sold shirts. I thought it was an employee gift?”

“No, they were mam’s idea. When she was--” Jenny stops, looks down at the food list for her husband’s (surprise) birthday party and lets out a breath.”When she was pregnant wi’ Robert, she told father that it would be a good idea. She was no’ wrong and he ran wi’ it, but after she died, I dinna ken what happened to the shirts. But they must’ve gone _somewhere_ then.” She nods at Claire as proof.

A silence fills the room, Claire feeling the weight of what Jamie doesn’t speak of much. She knows about the death of his mother, two brothers, his father. So much loss that sometimes her own doesn’t seem real because she can’t remember much of it. Jamie remembers his so vividly. Without drawing too much attention to it, her hand slips under the table to rest on Jamie’s knee, glad to feel his fingers curl around hers.

“Perhaps we should do it again. We’re the biggest vendor at the market,” Jamie muses, talking through his pain, forging ahead.

The rest of the early evening is spent talking strategy, more party details, and then supper before driving home. She always lets Jamie drive, likes watching him, focused and intent. Tonight, one hand reaches for his, lacing their fingers together on a stretch of straight road. She doesn’t speak as her thumb glides over his palm but the action is simple. It means she’s here, ready to listen if he wants to talk. He says nothing until they’re parked in front of their building and doesn’t move.

“Jamie?”

He turns off the car but still doesn’t get out and instead looks over at Claire. “I need to ask a question. And I ken it’s… _ridiculous_ but I need to ask it anyway. Okay?”

Claire takes off her seatbelt so she can turn to face him fully, taking his hand again and tugging it close. “Okay.”

There’s a pause, a hitch to his breath before Jamie finally speaks. “I’ve tried to run the farm my Da would’ve wanted me to, I’ve tried to make decisions wi’ him in mind. Some days I’m no’ sure if I do well or if something is truly in his image.” There’s no question yet, and so he exhales heavily. “What I’m tryin’ to ask, Sassenach, is do ye think he’d be proud of me?”

“Oh, Jamie.” Her response is as immediate as the feel of her heart breaking a little for him. “Of course he would.”

“I never told ye that he…” Jamie pauses mutters something under his breath, and lets his head fall back against the seat. “He died while I was in the hospital from the accident. Jenny would no’ even tell me when I first woke and could be coherent. The doctors told her not to, afraid it would ‘impede my recovery.’ It was only when I asked why he had no’ come that she finally said anything. He thought I was dead, there was so much blood pouring out of me. I missed his funeral, the wake, the burial. All of it. And the torture of it is, he died thinking _I_ was dead.”

There isn’t room enough for Claire to do what she wants which is pull Jamie into her arms. She does the best she can, pressing his hand over her chest and holding onto his arm, letting him speak. When he’s done and silence settles over them in the dark of the car, she realizes what he means, what he isn’t saying beneath it all. Swallowing, she presses a kiss to his palm and closes her eyes before placing his hand back over her heart.

“It wasn’t your fault, Jamie.”

The noise that comes out of him isn’t quite a sob because he chokes it off; it sounds ugly, like a half-snort but it only makes her eyes fill with tears she refuses to let fall. “Do you hear me?”

He’s looking down, unsure why this is coming out _now_ , and he nods, curls falling to mask his face a little. “Aye. Aye, I hear ye.”

“Do you believe me?”

Jamie raises his head at that and looks at her, so much raw emotion on his face that it takes her breath away. “I’m trying to.”

She can’t do this anymore, in the car, so she gets out, walking around and opening the driver’s side door before reaching out, tugging until he joins her and her arms can wrap around him as they stand in the parking lot. One single beam of orange, murky light keeps the space lit enough for her to see his face when she pulls back.

“Your father would be so proud of you, Jamie. He raised a kind, warm, caring son into a man better than any I’ve ever known. Someone whose name means something, a legacy that he’s carried on. You had to decide Jamie, what sort of man you wanted to be, and I have no doubt you were only following in Brian Fraser’s footsteps.”

Claire can feel the tightness in his chest release as he sags against her a bit and she continues. “You’ve kept going what your father built. It’s incredible, Jamie. I’m lucky to be loved by a man exactly like you.”

At that, Jamie’s arms wrap tightly around her, his forehead coming to rest against hers. “I do love ye, Claire. Ye ken it?”

“Of course I do, you bloody Scot. Just as deeply as I know your father would be nothing but proud of you. Happy _for_ you.” Her lips find Jamie’s for a soft kiss, and finally, he says what she needs to hear.

“I believe ye.”


End file.
